"She's waiting for you," Alice replied, simply, looking into his face with comprehension. "She's the sweetest thing, daddy," the girl continued. "One moment she is so wise that she seems old enough to be my truly mother; and then again so young and sympathetic as to be just an older sister. I can't tell you how much she does for me every day, or how completely she understands me." "You and I are mighty lucky to have Eleanor, Alice," Gorham replied, feelingly. "We should both be very grateful to her, dear." "I _am_ grateful, daddy; and I love her better every day. There's Riley; he'll help you get ready for the theatre." Gorham made no answer, but patted his daughter's cheek affectionately as he turned from her to the genial face of his valet and general factotum. The old man had been in Gorham's family for forty years, and his loyalty to "Misther Robert" had steadily increased during the period which had elapsed since "Old Gorham," as his original master had been known in Pittsburgh, delivered him over to his son as a part of the house and household effects which constituted the paternal wedding present. Now, ten years Gorham's senior, he still adopted an attitude at once protective and admiring, enjoying that intimacy which is the reward of a lifelong service of loyalty. "Miss Alice wishes me to go to the theatre to-night, Riley," Gorham remarked as the man relieved him of his coat. "Yis, sor; 'twill do ye good, Misther Robert--ye wid so manny grand plans in ye'er head. 'Twill do ye good, sor." "But I have so much to do, Riley," Gorham protested. "The more items I cross off my daily memorandum, the more I find left there to be done." "Yis, sor; that's right, sor--I know it's right; it's just like th' Widow Cruse's oil jug in th' Bible, sor. But th' widow come out all right, Misther Robert, and ye'll do th' same. I'll have ye'er things ready f'r ye in a minnit, sor." If Riley was in the conspiracy for the theatre-party, Gorham realized that opposition would be futile, so he turned into his wife's room. "I thought I heard voices in the hall," Mrs. Gorham greeted her husband, affectionately. "You have returned early, which will give us a little visit together before dinner-time. Has the day been satisfactory?" Gorham did not reply at once. He held her face between his hands, looking down into the depth of her eyes with a strength of feeling which she could but sense. There was an expression of expectancy, an unspoken desire that she should recognize something which as yet she had failed to see. There was a tenseness which would have frightened her except for the tenderness which accompanied it. "Why do you look at me like that, Robert?"